


Hunting Parties

by LtLJ



Series: Hunting Parties Series [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character of Color, Friendship, Kidnapping, M/M, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-12
Updated: 2006-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtLJ/pseuds/LtLJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On what seems like an easy mission, John gets captured, and Rodney and the others have to search for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting Parties

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains an attempted sexual assault.
> 
> Cover by Dar_jeeling

"Sometimes I feel like the albatross of the Pegasus Galaxy," Rodney said under his breath.

John put on a mock-puzzled expression. "You mean jackass?"

Rodney gave John a sour look. "Yes, mock me with an insult that was so low it was even beneath your level, that'll make the problem go away."

They were walking down the stone-paved road toward the Nevian stargate. The sun was bright and rich green fields criss-crossed by irrigation ditches lay on either side. One of the kids trailing after them ran ahead to jump into a puddle at the roadside, startling a cloud of wispy blue and yellow butterfly-like insects into flight. If you didn't turn around to see the city behind you -- crumbled towers, acres of flattened houses, smoke still rising from the smoldering ruins in the outlying areas, and the cracked and broken copper dome that had been the Science Center -- it looked like a normal late spring day.

One of the younger boys -- tow-headed like most of the Nevians, dressed in a dirty oversized shirt and dragging a battered one-armed doll -- smiled up at John and he smiled back, saying, "We're not the problem, Rodney."

The kids were a byproduct of the culling. The Wraith didn't usually bother taking humans below a certain age, either because the meal they provided was negligible or to keep their cattle from dying out entirely. So there were orphaned children all over the city, and they tended to randomly follow any adults they encountered.

"I didn't say we were the problem," Rodney said pointedly, looking away across the fields. "You know what I mean."

Yeah, John knew. They had found the Nevians a month ago, when this had been a thriving city with 1920s era technology and people who were eager to trade and share information. After three visits the natives still showed no signs of wanting to kill, maim, or otherwise injure anyone from Atlantis and they were on their way to a strong alliance, maybe almost as strong as the one with the Athosians. On the fourth visit, John's team found a ruin that had been drastically culled by the Wraith, the survivors struggling to harvest what was left of their crops before winter hit.

They were back now with another shipment of medical supplies, with Carson Beckett and three other members of his staff. John had landed the jumper in the plaza that had been the city center, and Beckett was using the ship as a temporary free clinic for the refugees camped there. There just wasn't much else they could do. Elizabeth had offered the Nevians refuge on Atlantis' mainland, but they were determined to stay here and rebuild. John could appreciate the sentiment, but he had the bad feeling that one day they would come back here and find the place deserted.

It wasn't like that had never happened before.

John turned off the road into the field, heading toward the small group of Nevians waiting near one of the ditches. Mariet, her oldest daughter Silve, and assorted children and teenagers hailed them gratefully. "Major Sheppard, Dr. McKay, I cannot thank you enough for your help," Mariet said. She was an older woman, with long gray hair, dressed in the grubby remnants of the red pants and smocks worn by Nevian scientists. "I truly do not know what we would do."

"Oh, well, you know...." John had no idea what to say to a woman old enough to be his grandmother who had lost her civilization and most of her family, who had been chief scientist of her capital city's research center and who now had to grub in the mud for potato-root-things to feed stray children.

Rodney went to the edge of the ditch, eyeing the trapped harvester, the brown water, and the muddy children tugging ineffectually at the rusting metal with distaste. "Shouldn't we call for backup? This looks like a Marine thing."

Alvan, Mariet's teenage grandson, looked up at him in confusion, "Because there's water in the ditch?"

"That's what their soldiers are called, dear," Mariet explained.

John wasn't even sure what the thing in the ditch did; it was some kind of cart-plow-harrow combination with sharp blades in the back. When he had asked what was left of the Nevian council if he and his team could do anything to help them while they were here, he hadn't expected to be asked if he could assist Mariet with getting her wrecked farm equipment out of an irrigation ditch. But it was something of a relief to have an accomplishable goal for the afternoon. "I think we can handle this without calling in a strike team, Rodney."

Twenty minutes later, the plow-thing was winning.

"There has got to be a better way to do this," Rodney gasped, leaning on the bench seat and wiping mud and sweat off his brow.

John had thought they could just get under the thing, lift it up and push it out, but that wasn't happening. He lunged down, scooping a little girl out of the muddy water just as her head went under. "You were the one who said the tripod for the winch wouldn't fit over this ditch." He deposited the wet sniffly toddler in Rodney's arms. "Here."

"Gah!" Rodney hastily planted the girl on the bank, telling her, "Sit. Stay."

"It seems to be wedged in here very firmly," Silve said, breathless as she struggled to climb out from under the plow-thing's shaft.

John gave Silve a hand as she climbed out of the muck. He said, "You know, I think what we need is some more people. And cable. And maybe the jumper."

"We're going to have to take the wheels off. That's where all the weight is." Rodney eyed the plow grimly. "Do you have an adjustable socket wrench?"

John pretended to pat his vest pockets. "Damn, I forgot my socket set this morning. But if we want to blow up the plow, I have--"

"Oh, just shut up. I'm going to the jumper for tools." Rodney dug his hands into the grass at the edge of the ditch and hauled himself up. John ducked the spray of mud as Rodney flailed his way out.

"But if you take it apart, can you put it back together?" one of the younger girls wondered.

Rodney stared down at her grimly, then transferred the glare to John. "You realize, of course, if we have to call home to get an engineer out here--"

John grimaced. They would never live it down. There would be photos, and probably a video clip uploaded to the server. "I know. Just get the tools."

Rodney gave him a weary wave and trudged toward the road. It was at least a ten minute walk to the plaza where the jumper was parked and John thought they were all due a break. He helped Silve and the kids out of the ditch and then climbed out himself, sitting in the thick grass with his legs stretched out, hoping his pants would dry out a little.

Alvan said, "We thought you would just be able to levitate the harvester out."

"'We' meaning the children," Silve corrected dryly. She had worked at the Nevians' science center too, as an assistant to Mariet. On their second visit, John's team had been invited to dinner at their family house, and he knew Silve had had a husband and three older brothers. John hadn't seen them since the culling, and neither Mariet or Silve had mentioned them. "The flying ships have quite turned their heads."

John's lips quirked. "Me personally?" he asked Alvan.

Alvan laughed. "No, with some fantastic Ancestor machine."

"We're still looking for the levitation machine," John told him.

Mariet came out of the field, carrying a basket of root-like things and accompanied by another small swarm of young children. With a rueful smile, she said, "When you came here the first time, there were those who said it was impossible to ally with a group whose technology was so far advanced from ours." She sat down on a the grassy bank with a sigh. "I thought it was a ridiculous objection. We're all the same to the Wraith."

"I think you're way ahead of us in farming," John said, wanting to shift the subject, even if he had to talk about the latest toba root crop. He unwrapped his last power bar, breaking it into pieces and passing it out to the cluster of kids. "The Athosians didn't do much of it before they came to live with us."

"I don't know anything about it either," Silve admitted, leaning forward to look into the ditch. "I'm not even sure what this thing does."

John snorted. "Just don't mention that to McKay." Then he heard the distinctive whoosh-thump from the direction of the stargate.

John frowned, pushing to his feet. They were near the end of the planted fields, not far from the big grassy flat where the stargate stood. As the crystal blue wormhole stabilized, two men stepped out. They were both tall and heavy-set, with curly blond hair and beards. They could pass as Nevians, but there was something about the cut of their clothes, the long brown leather coats, the ragged dull-colored shirts and pants, that didn't look right. "Who's that?"

"Oh, they're traders." Silve stepped up to join him, shoving her hair back, frowning in irritation. "They came here a few days ago, and we told them we wouldn't be doing any trading for a while."

Mariet added, "They seemed to think we were trying to bargain with them and said they would be back. Very annoying, under the circumstances."

There was something about that that made John's nerves twitch. It was pushy, for trade relations in Pegasus. Most groups would have seen evidence of the culling and dialed the gate back home, without even bothering to talk to anyone. He started along the ditch toward the road, keying his radio. "Ford, we've got activity at the gate. The Nevians say it's an unknown trader group."

Ford's voice replied instantly, "Sir? You want backup?" There were faint voices in the background, and John could hear Beckett lecturing someone on washing their hands before changing bandages.

The first two men were joined by two more, and two more. They didn't appear armed, but this was a big group for traders. "Keep Ramirez with you, send me Teyla and Benson." He didn't want to leave Beckett and the medical personnel unguarded; he didn't think the Nevians in general meant them any harm, but people in this situation got crazy.

"Yes, sir," Ford replied sharply

There were ten men gathered in front of the gate now. Following him, Silve shaded her eyes, frowning. "There were only three of them when they came the first time. Why so many today?"

_That's a good question,_ John thought. On his headset, Rodney's voice broke in. "What is it? What's wrong? You want me to come back?"

"Negative, McKay, keep heading toward the city."

John and Silve reached the grassy area that led up to the stargate. A few Nevian men and several women who had been working in the fields had come out and were standing near the gate, talking to the traders. All the traders were smiling, and the Nevians looked bemused. "We have nothing to trade now," one of the men was saying. "If you come back next season--" But there was something that was making John's hackles rise. Close up, the traders all looked like disreputable Vikings. They were all big and blond, their leather coats like something out of an Italian Western, and they were coated with dust.

One of the traders turned toward John. He was young, hard-featured, and he stared, startled, at John's face. His pale eyes moved down John's body and back up, and he wasn't checking out the unfamiliar weapons and uniform. John gave him the "that's nice now back off" smirk automatically, still studying the situation, knowing there was something funny going on here.

Then he saw a glint of metal inside the guy's coat, just as the breeze made the fabric curve around the long distinctive shape of a rifle with an elongated barrel. In that instant, the guy glanced down, realized John had seen the weapon, and made to swing it free of his coat.

John shouted "Get down!" He shoved Silve back and brought up the P-90. The other traders were already pulling up rifles and large bulky pistols they had hidden under their coats. As they fired into the scattering group of Nevians, John fired back in three-shot bursts. He dropped two traders before he felt something glance off his tac vest, then something struck his arm. It hurt like hell and he hunched over, trying to keep the P-90 up, his arm suddenly numb. Then he was on his back, staring at the sky, and sliding into blackness.

  
***

  
Rodney wasn't far from the gate. He had stopped to sit down on the road and make an attempt to get the mud out of his shoes, and he had just gotten them back on. When he stood up, he could see the stargate and the group in front of it, Sheppard and Silve moving up to join them. Something about it made him uneasy. "Huh," he said, to himself and the current three members of his omnipresent child escort. "That's a large group to make a trading contact. If they expected to pick up a shipment-- But they don't even have a cart. This is not--"

Then he saw the flash of metal in the sunlight and heard Sheppard's P-90 fire. Rodney swore and started running toward the gate, dragging out his sidearm. After a minute he remembered he was supposed to run away from the danger but he saw Sheppard go down, falling backwards into the grass in a helpless sprawl and everything vanished in a haze of panic and a surprisingly powerful rush of rage.

The Nevians were down or running and Rodney had a clear shot. He stumbled to a halt and lifted his pistol, firing into the biggest group of traders. He saw one of them lift a long-barreled weapon and that was when he realized there wasn't any cover except the knee-high grass.

He started to back away, then pain knocked him sideways and he went down with a yelp, his leg instantly going numb. He stared incredulously at the dart the size of a small arrow standing out of his thigh, then clawed it out. Cursing, he scrambled through the grass for his pistol, then felt his head swim. Suddenly he was lying flat, head aching, vision going dark, his body limp. He tried to shove himself up and nothing happened. "Oh, no, this is bad, very, very, bad." He could hear them dialing the gate, the chiming thunk as the chevrons encoded. "I can't--" A little worried face filled his vision, one of the kids who had been following him. "Look at the gate," he gasped, "Get the address--" then everything went dark.

  
***

  
Rodney wanted to tell that idiot to stop groaning. Then he realized that idiot was him. He opened bleary eyes to see a strange teenage girl leaning over him, holding a cold compress to his forehead. "Ow, ow, get away. No, wait," he added as she retreated. "Leave the towel, thank you, now go." He pressed it back over his eyes. His head was a large painful ball of pain, and he was going to die, right now.

"He's awake!" somebody, presumably the girl, shouted.

Rodney hurt too much to express his outrage with more than a strangled gasp.

Someone snatched the towel away and Ford was leaning over him, asking, "Dr. McKay, did you see the gate address?"

Rodney stared at him, registered the fear and hope under Ford's determined expression, and memory flooded back. Dart guns, crazy men attacking through the gate. "The Major. God, is Sheppard--"

"We don't know. They killed three men, but they took him, and some of the women and older kids away through the gate." Ford gritted his teeth. "Did you see the address?"

"No. Wait." Rodney managed to flail upright. Teyla was there suddenly, taking his arm and helping him stand. Her face was drawn, her eyes anxious, as she waited with controlled tension for his answer. "The kid, the kid that was with me. I was already down when they started to dial, I told him to look at the symbols."

They were in some kind of dirt-floored shack or barn, musty and bare, with a few bales of something wheat-like stacked against the walls. There were three women stretched out on blankets nearby, barely conscious, being tended by more of the kids and one of the nurses they had brought from Atlantis. In the far corner there were two unmoving forms covered by tarps. Rodney scanned the children frantically but none of them was the right size or shape. "Which kid?" Ford was demanding, not helpfully.

"I don't know!" Rodney shouted, wincing at what that did to the bundle of raw nerve endings currently forming his head. "It was a little one, blond, my God, they all look alike at that age!" He reeled to the broad doorway, Teyla helping hold him up.

The barn was on a slight rise, looking out over the fields and the road leading to the gate. The jumper was nearby, and standing in the grassy yard was Benson, Ramirez, plus Mariet and half a dozen other Nevians, with the wandering collection of children. The jumper's ramp was open and inside it, he could see Carson and the other two nurses doing something intrusively medical to another Nevian man stretched out on the floor.

"Boy or girl?" Ford asked harshly as everyone turned to stare at them. Mariet started toward them, her face etched with fear and worry.

"I couldn't tell. Hey, children!" Rodney shouted. "Which of you was with me when I was attacked? You were short, blond, muddy, and had--"

A vaguely familiar little figure dodged out of the group of Nevians and ran up to Rodney. It stared up at him earnestly and Rodney said, "You? It was you, right? Did you get the symbols?"

Ford said, despairing, "McKay, there's no way a kid that age is going to...."

He trailed off as the kid proffered a skinny bare arm. Etched on it in dried mud was seven crudely drawn gate symbols.

"Candy for you," Rodney breathed, exchanging a look of profound relief with Teyla. "All you can eat."

"You may name your own reward," Teyla told the kid.

Mariet reached them, asking anxiously, "You can find them? You will bring them all back?"

The gate lit up and a wormhole whooshed into life, the blue pool of the event horizon gleaming brightly in the sunlight. Almost as soon as it stabilized, a puddlejumper shot through it, then another, and another. The first jumper circled around, heading for a landing spot near the barn, but the other two lifted up to hover over the field.

"Yes, ma'am," Ford said grimly, lifting a hand to his headset as the military radio channel burst into life with static and voices. "We're bringing them all back."

  
***

  
John thought he had been kicked in the head by a horse. Or possibly a buffalo, or an elephant. Something with large hard feet. There was a tight pain between his eyes and he felt numb, like he had been gassed with nitrous oxide. He heard voices, shouting, and managed to crack his eyes open. He saw an unfamiliar gray sky, hazy with dust. He was lying on hard sandy ground, and a cold wind was cutting right through his clothes. He could tell his tac vest, jacket, and shoes were gone. No P-90, no pistol, no knife. _Not so good...._ Wincing, he tried to sit up, and that was when he realized his wrists were tightly bound with metal cuffs. He rolled his eyes. _So it's going to be one of those days._

He rolled, trying to sit up, squinting to see past the dust and his own blurring vision. Then a big blond Viking-like guy loomed over him and kicked him in the shoulder. "Ow! Shit, what--"

There were suddenly two of them and they grabbed his arms, dragging him to his feet, holding him up when his knees tried to give out. He saw chain-link metal cages or pens, the whole enclosure sheltered by big sandstone-colored boulders and rocky outcrops that blocked the view. The sand was cold on his bare feet, and he was starting to remember now: the mission to the Nevians, the unexpected "trading" group coming through the gate. _Yeah. This is going to suck,_ John thought, still woozy. His voice coming out raspy and weak, he said, "Who the hell are you people?" He didn't have a clue where he was, either. The sand and the dust and the windswept rock had the feel of a barren desert in the winter, but that didn't tell him anything.

"Bring him," one of the traders said, and walked away. Two of them yanked John into motion, dragging him when he lost his footing. There were other people lying in the dust, unconscious or stirring weakly, and more of the fake traders were dragging them into the pens. _They must have grabbed whoever was in the field._ John didn't see Rodney or anybody else in Atlantean uniform, and that was a relief, but he recognized Silve and her son Alvan sprawled in the last pen they passed.

They dragged John past the boulders, to an open area where several metal shacks backed up against a rocky bluff. The wind was stronger, whipping up the dust and sand. Then from behind him, from the pens, John heard a high-pitched scream. The sudden burst of adrenaline gave John the strength to plant his feet and try to wrench away. Someone behind him grabbed his hair and kneecapped him, then one of them flung open the door of the nearest shack and threw him inside.

John hit the floor face first, a heavy body slamming into his back, knees pinning his shoulders to the floor, cuffed hands trapped under him. He shoved up to flip the guy off of him, but another body landed on his legs, flattening him to the floor. "What the hell do you want?" John snarled.

The one sitting on his legs said, "We've got what we want."

John felt the knife on the sole of his bare foot and had time to think _oh shit_ before it dug in, drawing a line of fire from his heel up. He choked down the first yell of pain and incredulous fury, but the second escaped when the knife dug in again. When a hand grabbed his other ankle, he almost bucked them off, and the one sitting on his back banged his head into the hard ground.

Momentarily stunned, his eyes watering from the pain, John realized the cutting had stopped, then he flinched and cursed as something oily and thick was rubbed into the slashes. It stung like agony, like salt and fire together, and he writhed involuntarily, the metal cutting into his bound wrists as he tried to wrench free. When he stopped, panting, the one who had cut him shifted off his legs, but between the other crushing weight still on his back and the crippling pain, he couldn't do more than struggle. The odds sucked anyway; he thought at least two others had followed them into the shack.

The one on his back said, "You should have killed him on the planet, Gev. You saw their weapons. They weren't Nevians. They didn't look like them, they didn't act like them--"

A hand grabbed John's hair, twisting his head around to face the other guy, Gev. It was the one who had given John the once-over in front of the gate. Gev shook him and said, "Where do you come from?"

"Fuck off," John grated out the words.

Gev dropped his head and pulled up John's sleeve, and he got a glimpse of a primitive-looking hypo before it stabbed into his forearm. John watched the amber fluid in the glass chamber disappear into his body, thinking _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit_. "What is that?" he rasped out.

They didn't answer him, still talking over his head. Somebody back by the door said, "Where are you going to sell him? The Basila only want women and boys."

So they masqueraded as traders, to look for vulnerable worlds and kidnap people for slaves. _Oh, that's just fantastic._ It explained why some of the small villages they had tried to contact had been so damn hostile. And they had cut up his feet to make it harder for him to escape. God, they were probably out there doing it to the other prisoners, that's what the screaming had been about.

Gev laughed. "I'm not going to sell him." Then a hand shoved between John's legs, sliding up the back of his thigh. John jerked in startled reaction, then snarled silently. _And it just got worse._ There were at least four of them in this room; if it turned into a party...he was in a lot of trouble.

"So we were supposed to get at least twenty slaves, and all we got was seven plus a toy for you. And we lost three men."

"I'll get good use out of him." Gev didn't stop groping, and John set his jaw and made himself hold still; Gev wanted a reaction, and John wasn't going to give it to him. Not yet, anyway. Not until the odds were a little closer to even.

"The wind's coming up, we need to post guards. Those fucking natives will be out there," somebody protested.

The one still sitting on John's back finally said in annoyance, "Come on, it'll take at least that long for that stuff to put him under. Unless you want to fight him for it."

A last painful squeeze made John bite his lip, tasting blood, when Gev finally let go. He said, "All right, all right, let's go set the damn guards."

The weight lifted off his back, but as John rolled over, a boot struck him in the stomach. He curled around the pain, gasping, and heard the door bang as they went out.

After a long moment of breathing hard, John managed to awkwardly push himself up, pulling his feet up to look at the wounds. His right foot had two long vertical slashes, the left only one short one, and his blood stained the sandy dirt. The stinging gunk they had rubbed into it had stopped the bleeding, but it hurt like hell. The injector they had used had been the size of a horse needle and left a vividly discolored bruise on his arm, right next to the one left by the dart that had taken him down. _This...isn't good._ Gritting his teeth, John rolled to his knees and tried to stand. He collapsed an instant later, choking back an outcry.

Two more tries didn't get him any further and the cuts were starting to bleed sluggishly again. Breathing hard, grimacing, he managed to stay sitting upright. It had sounded like they thought the drug would make him completely incapacitated. Whatever it was, it hadn't kicked in yet. He knew he could walk, run, fight, if he could just get the damn cuffs off and stand up without screaming.

Over the howl of the wind, he heard a sudden crunch on the gravel outside the door and threw himself flat, going limp.

He heard the door open, and Gev's voice said, "I told you, this one's mine. Go get one of the women, if you can't wait."

From the footsteps, there were only two of them. That still wasn't great odds, but he knew it was as good as it was likely to get.

"Is he out?" Gev again. A boot nudged his ribs, not gently. "The more technology they have, the softer they are."

"You gave him too much. And if they're soft, why do they have weapons like that?"

So he wasn't supposed to be unconscious. John groaned low in his throat and moved a little.

"There we go," Gev said, low and amused. The boot nudged again and John let it roll him onto his side. He kept his eyes hooded, trying to look dopey and out of it. They both were wearing the weird bulky pistols in shoulder holsters. Gev kept prodding at John with his boot, rolling him onto his back, toeing his thighs apart.

"I helped you get him. Let me have him after you're done," the other one said sullenly.

"You can watch," Gev offered.

_Wow, that's generous,_ John thought sourly. From their reactions, the drug must be a tranquilizer or something roofy-like. John didn't feel tranquilized; he felt pissed off.

As Gev reached down for him, John grabbed his leg and pushed up; Gev fell across John's body with a broken yell. His friend started forward, clawing for the weapon in his shoulder holster. John already had his hand on Gev's gun, not bothering to drag it out of the awkward holster, just wrenching it around and pulling the trigger twice. It was an air gun and fired with a soft pop. The other man jerked back, staggering into the wall. John twisted the gun down to put a bullet into Gev but the crappy mechanism jammed.

Gev twisted around, flailing wildly, and John got an elbow in the face. They rolled, Gev trying to tear away from him, and John grabbed his coat, holding on awkwardly with his bound hands. He couldn't get a good grip, couldn't get purchase with his crippled feet to brace himself. _If he gets away, I'm screwed. Literally._ Gritting his teeth, he said, "What, you can't handle me without your buddy's help? Come on, fight me for it."

Gev was really stupid. He could have wrenched away from John and gone for help, gone for the other gun, but he twisted with a curse, grabbing John's arms, trying to pin him down. John rolled them again, Gev lost his hold when John drove a knee into his belly, and John got an arm around Gev's throat. Then it was all over except for the struggling and clawing and turning blue.

John shoved Gev's inert body off and tried to roll to his knees. Then his head swam and his vision went black; he came to a moment later, slumped over face first in the dirt. "Oh, crap, I don't need this," he gasped, shoving himself up. This had to be the damn drug. He was just lucky it hadn't kicked in any earlier, or he would have been Gev's boyfriend by now.

John searched Gev's pockets and the compartments in his belt, but there was no key for the handcuffs, no other weapons, though there was some bullets for the jammed air gun. John shoved him away wearily. "You're an even more useless piece of crap than I thought."

The ground felt like it was doing flips and he was leaving a trail of blood, but he shoved forward, crawling toward the other sprawled body. He needed a gun and the damn key.

With two brief blackouts along the way, he had made it halfway there. Then the door slammed open.

John recoiled instinctively, but the guy standing there didn't look anything like the other raiders. He was big and muscular, dark-skinned, dressed in nothing but a brief twist of red cloth around his hips and a brown cloak thrown back over his shoulders. He was bald and his bare head was covered with red tattoos.

He stopped, eyes moving from one dead body to the other, then to John, and his brows lifted. In a deep amused voice, he said, "I wondered why they didn't come out."

_Uh oh._ He was big, and he didn't look stupid. John said, "They're a little busy now. Can I take a message?"

He countered with, "Do you want out of here?"

John thought, _I must look naive._ Gathering himself, he said, "Sure," then lunged for the gun. But the abrupt move triggered another surge of dizziness and he fell flat.

Still dazed, he came out of it just enough to realize the guy was dragging him up off the ground, grabbing him around the waist, and suddenly John was hanging head down over his shoulder. The blood rushed to his head and John squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay conscious, then they were through the door and out into the windblown haze of dust and sand.

The wind was cold now, cutting right through his clothes, stinging his exposed skin and the cuts on his feet. Tangled in the guy's cloak, hands still bound, thighs pinned by a strong arm, John thought, _this could be bad._ He managed to twist his head free, trying to see what was happening, and got a face full of fine sand.

He heard a staccato of gunfire over the roar of the wind. Squinting against the blown sand, he saw dark figures moving in the haze, carrying limp bodies. He recognized the tangle of light-colored hair and the gray dress and knew the man next to him was carrying Silve.

John got a blurry view of a big shaggy animal, like a buffalo with camel legs, right before he was flung over a leather saddlebow. He gasped a breath, rank and musty from the animal's fur, and dug in a knee to shove himself off the other side. Then the guy swung up behind him, dragging him upright, pinning him with a tight arm around his chest, and the animal was moving, plunging into the sandstorm.

They must have been sheltered by rocks, because the wind was suddenly at gale-force intensity, slamming into John like a punch, stealing the air right out of his lungs. John stopped struggling to get away and started struggling to breathe, twisting his head, trying to get air. The man pulled him around to face him, pressing John to his chest, dragging the cloak around both of them.

John breathed in warmth, the smell of clean sweat and smoky incense. He was in the guy's lap, his legs draped over one muscular thigh, bound hands pinned between their bodies. The animal must be able to guide itself, because the guy was holding him with both arms, one around his waist and the other keeping John's head tucked firmly into his shoulder. At least he wasn't doing anything with his hands besides holding on. John tried to ask, "Who the hell are you? What do you want with us?" but the wind was too loud, he couldn't even hear himself, much less a reply.

His thoughts were starting to blur, the drug pulling him under, and he couldn't fight it, couldn't fight anything.

  
***

  
"I don't see anything," Rodney said, as their jumper came out of the wormhole. Through the port he had a view of a sky gray with dawn. There was just enough light to reveal a green valley with a few sparse trees dotted around and a stream cutting through the grass some distance away.

"We just got here, Dr. McKay," Ford said from the shotgun seat. Sergeant Markham was flying their jumper, though Rodney was supposed to be the backup pilot on their team. He hadn't argued, since his jumper flying skills were more at the landing, picking people up, and getting through a gate in one piece level and not the combat flying stage. Not that Markham's were much better. But Rodney was also still off-balance from the drugged darts and the only reason he was here at all was because he had ignored Carson's protests, strapped himself into the seat, and refused to leave.

"I know that," Rodney snapped, studying the lifesigns detector screens that had popped up on the HUD. "I don't see anything on the sensors, either."

"They had some time to leave the gate area," Teyla said, her voice tense. "They may have had some sort of transport waiting."

Ford was on the radio, talking to Bates and Stackhouse. On the sensor screen, Rodney saw the other two jumpers move off, each taking up its portion of a search grid. Ford glanced at Markham, "Sergeant, put us down so we can take a look around."

Teyla sat forward. "On the grass, please, Sergeant. That way any tracks left near the gate will be undisturbed."

"Yes, ma'am." Markham brought the jumper down as requested, about fifty yards from the gate on a thick patch of grass. Rodney hurriedly followed the others out, though he had no idea what he was going to be looking for. The lifesigns detector was showing no signs large enough to be human in a depressingly large area, and unless one of the other jumpers turned up something.... His stomach was starting to cramp with anxiety, or maybe that was the drugs.

Two Nevians had come with them, Serian and Alsa, and both stood up from the bench seats in the back as the jumper touched down. Serian demanded, "What is it? Why are we landing if there is nothing near the gate?" Rodney had him pegged as an idiot who would be more trouble than he was worth. Alsa was calmer and had been something fairly high up in the Nevian government before the culling. She didn't ask any questions, just watched, her face set with anxiety.

"We are going to look for signs that the raiders were here," Teyla told Serian, somehow managing to sound reassuring. Rodney had seen the dents her fingers had left in the padded material of the jump seat and knew she wasn't anymore calm than he was, just far better at hiding it.

Outside, Ford made them wait with the jumper while he, Teyla and Markham spread out to search the gate area. Rodney kept scanning on his handheld detector, though he knew it was useless.

Serian was pacing impatiently, but Alsa came up to Rodney and said, "They should be here near the gate, shouldn't they? Perhaps the boy got the address wrong."

Rodney nodded, rubbing his forehead. "That could be it." God, he hoped that was it. "If it is, he probably confused similar symbols. We can run up a list of permutations of this address, eliminate known addresses and orbital gates, gates that go to planets without atmosphere--"

Then Teyla's voice came over the radio. "I have found the body of one of the raiders." She was standing off to one side of the gate, in some thick bushes, and Rodney ran toward her, the two Nevians hurrying after him. She continued, "His weapons are missing. They must have either not realized he was dead when they dragged him through the gate, or abandoned him to die here."

Teyla waved them back as they drew near, and Rodney remembered she was looking for tracks. He slid to a halt, flinging out his arms to stop the Nevians.

Then Bates' voice came over the radio: "Teyla, don't mess around with the body, there might be tracks."

"No, really," Rodney snapped. "We were going to nail it to the front of our jumper as a warning to others."

Ignoring him, Teyla pushed to her feet, making a noise under her breath suspiciously like a growl.

"Teyla," Ford said, keying his radio off for a moment as he carefully picked his way over to her, "Don't lose it and kill Bates."

Teyla closed her eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them to say serenely, "I am aware of that standing order from the Major, Aiden."

Teyla moved away from the body, her eyes on the ground as Ford clicked his radio back on to talk to the other jumpers. Rodney looked away, his mouth twisted. The thing that terrified him was that the stakes were so much higher than just getting Sheppard back, than finding their friend. _If we lose him, if he's already dead, it could all fall apart._ They were trapped in another galaxy with no current hope of help from Earth, and what held the military contingent together was the authority Sheppard had through his rank and his completely and insanely ruthless dedication to keeping them all alive. What held the civilian contingent together was their faith that the military contingent wouldn't let them get killed. And Ford was a twenty-five year old kid who was fucking terrified under his mask of stern competence.

Finally, after a small eternity, Ford came over, Teyla and Markham trailing reluctantly behind him. "Tracks?" Rodney asked, dreading the answer.

Ford shook his head, his expression grim and weary. "They came through the gate, dumped the dying man, then turned right back again and dialed out." He looked back at the gate with a grimace. "There's nothing here."

"This is.... Yes, that's what I thought too." Rodney rubbed his eyes. He had known since the jumper had gated into an empty valley, with no signs of habitation or human presence.

"I don't understand," Alsa said, staring at them anxiously. "If the boy was wrong about the address, perhaps he is only one or two symbols off as you said, and if we try by trial and error--"

"He wasn't wrong, ma'am. The body is proof of that, and we found tracks in the dirt near the base of the gate," Ford told her gently. "But this wasn't their final destination. They were only here long enough to use this gate to go to their real base. It's a fairly basic tactic."

"Oh." Alsa's face was bleak. "But you are sure--"

"The jumper sweeps came back negative. There are no life signs for miles around, ma'am," Markham added.

Rodney burst out, "Look, somebody knows about this, somebody knows where they are. We need to go back and talk to the Nevians--"

Serian broke in angrily, "If you are saying we betrayed you--"

"Oh, don't be a bigger idiot than you already are!" Rodney rounded on him, furious. "Of course not! I'm saying this isn't the first time these people have done this! They got the drop on Sheppard, for God's sake! They were practiced, they were ready, they knew exactly what to do. Somewhere, someone has heard of them, has information on them, knows something. If you people can't see that--"

"Dr. McKay is right," Teyla interrupted. "I must return to Atlantis immediately and speak with my people. There may be those who have heard tales of attacks like this from our trading partners. I can radio ahead to Halling and tell him to begin asking--"

Ford interrupted, "If anybody even thinks they've heard of these guys, bring them back to the city with you. We'll have this body and a couple of the weapons for them to look at, that might help them remember."

"Yes, yes, this is exactly what we must do," Alsa said, flushed with renewed hope. "I must go home and call a meeting in the city plaza and ask if anyone has heard of an incident like this before. Obviously, they only attack small settlements that appear vulnerable, but as Teyla says, those who have spent time offworld may have heard stories."

Teyla was already moving toward the jumper and Rodney took long strides to catch up with her. She threw a glance at him. "It is a good plan, Dr. McKay," she said, low-voiced. "Try not to lose heart."

"It's not a good plan," Rodney muttered. "It's the only plan."

  
***

  
Everything was vague and hazy. John was dimly aware of boulders and dust and cold wind, then caves and flickering lamplight.

Finally he opened his eyes and saw a rocky ceiling overhead, flickering with firelight. Maybe he was the one on fire; his skin radiated heat like a furnace. His feet hurt, throbbing with pain in time to his heartbeat, and he had a dry throat and a pounding headache. He was lying on something soft and furry, and he could hear people talking, but he couldn't catch any of the words. He lifted a hand to his aching head and realized the cuffs were gone; the metal had left deep bruises on his wrists.

Then a hand gripped his ankle. John yelled, wrenched his legs free, fighting to scramble away. Someone caught his arms and a heavy body pinned him down. The man looming over him said firmly, "Easy, we are friends."

John blinked sweat out of his eyes, breathing hard, and recognized the man who had taken him out of the raider camp. "Get off me." His voice came out as a raspy whisper, but the guy let him go.

John shoved himself upright, pushing away from him, but his back hit a rock wall. Several men were watching him from a distance; they looked flustered and he realized there must have been a fast retreat at his sudden yell. A few were naked except for bright beads and feathers, the others were wearing just a loincloth. Crouched at the foot of the fur pallet was a grizzled old man in a similar outfit, but with a large collection of beads, feathers, bones, and unidentifiable stuff braided into his gray hair and hung around his neck. They were on a wide shelf of rock in a big cave, with stone terraces below them, the whole lit by fires in small round hearths and bowl-shaped oil lamps shoved into various chinks in the walls.

The man sitting next to him said, "We took you from the Isveni. You remember?"

John focused on him, trying to ignore the way his vision kept trying to gray out. "Isveni. The raiders?"

"Yes, the raiders." He watched John a moment. "No one will hurt you here."

"Okay." It would be nice to be able to believe that.

"I am Vanrin." He nodded to the old man. "This is doctor; he will tend your injuries."

John realized he had his feet tucked protectively close to his body. He said evenly, "I don't need a doctor. Where are the others?"

"In the lower cave; they are well. Some have similar injuries to yours." Vanrin was watching him closely. "But they are not your people?"

"They're Nevians." His heart was still pounding with panic but the rush of adrenaline was fading; the wall at his back was the only thing keeping him from falling over. It was hard to keep his eyes open. _It's that goddamn rape drug,_ John thought, grimacing. When the hell was it going to wear off? "Where are we?"

"We are Tasiben, this is our world. These caves are the meeting place of our tribes." Vanrin drew a hand across the furs, showed John the fresh blood on his fingers. "You need the doctor," he said firmly.

"No."

"Yes."

"Then let me go to the stargate. I can get help from my own people." Never mind that if it was further away than right next door, there was no way he could walk there. Or crawl there. He could work that part out later.

Vanrin shifted back, ran a finger along the edge of one of the bowl lamps, and used the soot to draw a small circle on the wall. "That is the Ring of the Ancestors." He made an X about six inches away. "That is these caves, where we are now." He drew a line between the two points, close to the gate's circle. "The Isveni camp." He drew another X, linking it to the first. "Our other tribe comes to join us. Then--" He rubbed out the line symbolizing the Isveni. "Until then, we must wait."

_So they're waiting for reinforcements before retaking their gate._ That was reasonable; John just hoped it was true. "How long?"

"Two, maybe three days." Vanrin added, "Now, the doctor."

John shook his head. He dug his fingers into the fur to stay upright, fighting to hold onto consciousness. He said harshly, "When the way to the gate is clear, you'll let us go?"

"I swear it. It is our way." Vanrin took his arm, tugging him gently away from the wall. John tried to twist away but he was too weak to make it more than a token resistance. Vanrin pulled him back against his chest, holding him there with a big arm around his waist. His warmth made John shiver. He brushed his fingers over John's cheek. "The Isveni came here about two seasons ago. We did not realize at first what they were. Stealing people of other tribes is a foreign thing to us, and we did not understand it, until one of the captives we freed explained it. We know of it now, but we still do not understand."

"Yeah. We weren't expecting it either." John gritted his teeth. The doctor had one of his feet, touching the cuts carefully, and it was all John could do not to kick the old guy.

The drug was obviously still in his system. The flickering lights kept growing halos, and the rock walls rippled, and John kept fading in and out while the wounds were cleaned, snapping back to consciousness to curse and gasp and struggle.

He drifted back at one point to realize he was lying flat on his back again, listening to the Tasiben speak in their native language, which was soft and liquid and would have been pleasant to listen to, except for the tight pounding in his head. He remembered them giving him water, and that the doctor had used stitches and some herbal-scented gunk that he hadn't been coherent enough to protest. He had so many alien chemicals in his system now, he just hoped that wasn't the one that killed him.

Now he could feel there were bandages wrapping his feet but he could wriggle his toes; everything felt like it was all there, at least. John tried to sit up to make sure and ended up flopping back helplessly. His head was about to explode. He had had knife wounds before; hell, he had been stabbed. There hadn't been time to get an infection this bad. "I shouldn't be this sick."

He hadn't realized he had said it aloud until Vanrin answered from somewhere behind him. "Isveni use a drug to make people easy to keep as captives. But with some people, it does not do this, but it makes the head ache and causes weakness."

"Yeah, this would be it, then," John said sourly, closing his eyes.

"It should not last longer than one day. This is how it has been with the others." He heard Vanrin shift around. "You are lucky. The men, the Isveni mostly kill. They keep you possibly for ransom, possibly for your beauty."

"Uh." John cracked an eyelid but he couldn't see Vanrin's face from this angle. He wet his lips, and said, warily, "My people are going to be coming for me." _Oh, come up with a more empty threat than that, John. I dare you._

Vanrin didn't seem to realize it was a threat at all. He said, unperturbed, "Will they fight the Isveni, as you did?"

John hoped they fought the hell out of them. "Yeah. Yeah, they will."

Vanrin sounded satisfied. "Good."

If there had been anymore of that conversation, John couldn't remember it. His headache got worse, to migraine point and beyond, and the light from the dim oil lamps was agony. This had to be fatal; they had just lied about it because there was nothing their doctor could do. He curled into a fetal ball, buried his head in his arms, and tried to die quietly.

At some point he was dimly conscious of someone making him drink something that tasted like leaves with a faint sweetness to it. Hoping it was a fast-acting poison, John didn't protest. But after that, the pain got floaty and distant, and he slid into an uneasy sleep.

He floated back up to the surface sometime later, the chills making him shiver even in the warm nest of furs. It was much darker and he couldn't tell if that was him or if most of the lamps and fires were out. He felt too heavy to do more than twitch, as if his body was pulling 10 Gs just lying here.

He was just fading out again when a big body settled into the furs next to him. _Oh, crap,_ John thought. "No," he said aloud, just to have it on the record. He was doing a lot of things on this offworld mission that he wasn't supposed to do: drinking untested water, being shot up with alien drugs, getting sexually assaulted. He wasn't supposed to do any of that on Atlantis, either, so the offworld thing probably wasn't going to be a factor, one way or another. Whatever, Elizabeth was going to be pissed.

Vanrin pulled him against his chest and his body was solid and strong, and he still smelled like musky warmth and foreign spices. Just before John faded out entirely, he felt a big warm hand flattened against the small of his back.

  
***

  
Sitting in Elizabeth's office, Rodney sipped from his mug, wincing at the bitter taste of the Athosian tea. Through the transparent wall he could see the quiet control gallery, all the operations staff working at their stations. There wasn't much to do at the moment but wait for information to come in, and even Rodney could admit that he wasn't great at the waiting part. Then Elizabeth took the mug away from him, saying, "Dammit, Rodney, that's mine. There's a pot two feet behind you, get your own."

"Sorry." He grimaced. "Usually I'm in the rescue party, or I'm the rescuee, both of which can be equally fraught, but-- I'm not used to just waiting, anymore."

"Yes, usually you're with him," Elizabeth snapped. She set the mug on the other side of the desk out of his reach, and started to pace, folding her arms. "Usually it's you, John, Teyla, and Ford, often plus or minus half a dozen other of my closest friends and colleagues, and I'm left here to work on my ulcers alone."

"All right, fine." Rodney's mouth twisted. "Next time you can be the rescuee." She threw him a glare and he made a vague gesture of apology. "So is this what you do? Just sit in this office and sweat?"

"Yes, it is." She let out her breath and rubbed her eyes. "Everything's going to be fine, Rodney."

"Fine, right." Rodney snorted bitterly. "And Carson's wearing his stethoscope and sitting out there next to Peter because there's nothing to do in the medlab, and the emergency medical team is lurking in the access corridor to the jumper bay playing bridge on a gurney because it's such a nice spot for it."

Elizabeth glared at him.

Then Ford dashed around the corner and ducked his head into the office. "Dr. Weir? Teyla's back with Charin. They should be landing in a few minutes."

Rodney catapulted out of the chair and bolted after Ford, just managing not to slam into Elizabeth in the doorway.

By the time they got up the stairs and through the corridor to the bay, the jumper had settled onto the bay floor and the old Athosian woman was walking down the jumper's ramp with Teyla, holding Sergeant Markham's arm to steady herself.

Elizabeth went to her side. "Charin, thank you very much for coming."

"I am only sorry I cannot do more," the old woman told her.

Rodney folded his arms, trying to hide his impatience. Charin looked like she was about a hundred and twelve and half-blind; he just hoped to God Teyla was right, and that something about the raiders had struck a chord in the old woman's memory. They were running out of possible sources of information.

Stackhouse had gone to their most reliable trading partners, the Enarians, and returned already empty-handed. The Enarians had tried to be helpful, but they had never been attacked like that before and had only heard vague rumors of it happening to other settlements. Mariet had sent a messenger back through the gate to report her and Alsa's lack of success with the Nevians. She had people searching through their archives hoping for information buried there, but Rodney knew their first theory was probably correct. These raiders only preyed on small vulnerable communities, and this was most likely their first visit to Nevia.

As Teyla and Markham helped Charin off the ramp, the pathology team wheeled in a gurney with the body of the raider, covered by a sheet. Sergeant Bates followed them in, carrying the two weapons, the dart gun and the air pistol.

Dr. Biro drew the sheet back and stepped aside. With a tight grip on Markham's arm, Charin leaned down over the corpse, frowning in concentration. She poked at the man's coat, then turned to Bates, who held out the weapons for her. She touched the dart gun thoughtfully.

"They had these, too," Teyla said, taking the smaller air pistol to show her. "They shoot single projectiles. Deadly to humans, but not much of a weapon against the Wraith."

Charin nodded grimly. "As I thought. These are the ones I had heard of."

"You know them?" Rodney demanded, startled. Hope squeezed his chest painfully. He had been waiting for her to say she was wrong, she had never seen anything like this before. He hadn't been alone in that. Ford, Elizabeth, and everyone else stared at the old woman, startled.

"Not of my personal acquaintance, no." Charin grimaced. "But my son, Milan, told me a tale once, told to him on a world where he went for trading."

"The son isn't available?" Rodney heard Bates quietly ask Teyla.

Teyla shook her head. "He was culled, several years ago."

Charin didn't seem to have heard, continuing, "They spoke of raiding parties who came through the Ring of the Ancestors to prey on small villages, or on those who had recently suffered cullings and were not able to defend themselves. They had both these weapons, the projectiles and the sleeping darts. It was not something we worried about on Athos, as we were always strong, and well able to defend ourselves from such attacks. But these raiders he was told of stole goods, not people. They must have changed their goals, if not their methods. Now where is the other young man? Ah, there you are." She turned to Ford. "If you have paper, I will write the address that Milan was given by those who told the tale."

Rodney circled around the gurney, hastily pulling out a pen and a notebook to hand her. "Are you sure you remember it? Not to imply that you're senile or anything, but it was a long time ago and it's not somewhere you ever visited yourself."

Teyla was giving him the "you can shut up now" eyebrow, but Rodney knew it was a question they all needed an answer to. Charin just chuckled and tapped the pen to her head. "I have many addresses up here. Maybe not so many as your machines can hold, but I am careful to note any that might hold danger for our traders. I remember it well." She wrote down the symbols with firm strokes, and handed the notebook to Ford. She looked him in the eye and her voice hardened. "Now, you and Teyla take the others and teach these fools that the Athosians and the people of the city of the Ancestors are not to be trifled with."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Elizabeth said grimly. "Gentlemen. You know what to do."

  
***

  
John woke lying on his side on the furs, listening to soft voices. He wet his lips, cautiously evaluating his will to live. His head still hurt but it was on a whole order of magnitude less than before. The sharp pain in his feet had settled down to a steady throb, and his body still felt too heavy to move, but his head felt much clearer. At least thinking was easier. He also hadn't been raped; between the headache and the knife wounds, that was about the only part of him that didn't hurt.

He must have moved, made a noise, because someone drew gentle fingers through his hair. Vanrin said, "You are better?"

"Yeah." John cleared his throat. The hand kept stroking his hair, then moved down to rub the back of his neck. He tried to gather his strength to tell the strange mostly naked alien man to stop petting him. Then Vanrin stopped, and John immediately missed the strong fingers kneading the pain away. "What did you give me?"

"A medicine for sleep. The Isveni drug was worse for you than our people."

"I'm...lucky that way." John got his eyes open, and saw a several other Tasiben seated around the firepit a few feet away, talking in their own language. All men, all dressed in the brief kilts, with the tattooing and piercings and beads. The nearest sat only a couple of feet away. He was staring at John. Or at least at John's legs. At the lower half of his body, anyway. Still too drained to sit up, John couldn't do anything more than glare and curl up defensively.

Vanrin made a throat-clearing noise and the other man jerked his attention back to the conversation.

John closed his eyes, hoping they wouldn't decide he was trying to seduce their young men and kill him. That had happened to members of their recon teams on three different planets. John knew he, Rodney, Teyla, and Ford had had no such intentions when they had been accused of it and he was pretty certain the same went for Stackhouse and Smith. He asked, "How long have I been here?"

"It has been nearly one full day since we took you from the Isveni camp," Vanrin said.

_A day? They should be here by now. _ Unless there had been no one close enough to see the address the Isveni had dialed. Or unless the Isveni had used the oldest trick in the stargate book, and dialed to an intermediate address, then dialed here. John really hoped that wasn't it.

"The others ask after you, they said your people brought them medicines and other help, after a culling," Vanrin was saying. He added, "They call you Major Sheppard. Is that your name or your office?"

That was confirmation that Vanrin was telling the truth on that point; the Nevians must be here. "Both. You can call me John, since we're sleeping together." He needed to find out for certain if they had been rescued or just traded up to nicer captors. "I want to see the others."

"When you can walk." Vanrin was carding his fingers through John's hair again.

John debated pulling away, but he couldn't tell if the guy was making out with him or just being comforting. There was something almost absent in the gesture, like Vanrin was petting a cat that happened to be nearby. "Why aren't we all together? Wouldn't it be easier to take care of us in one place?"

Vanrin's fingers paused, and he sounded a little surprised. "In our tribes, women and children live separately from men. We did not think they would want to be in the same caves with the male tribe."

"Oh." John turned his head to look up at him, surprised too. He had expected a more ingenuous explanation. That had sounded a lot like the truth. "It's.... The Nevians don't do that. Neither do we."

Vanrin shrugged slightly, looking down at him. Now that John could see past the tattoos and the whole _I'm being captured again and I hadn't even finished escaping from the first one yet_ thing, he could see the man had regular features, handsome and good-humored and open in a way you didn't see too often in Pegasus. "We forget that the farmer worlds are different. Once this world had a great city, but it was destroyed by the Wraith, and the survivors escaped into the wastelands. It became necessary to strictly control the number of children born so there was enough food for all, so they split into two tribes, one of men and one of women, and only came together at certain times. We still live this way."

"That makes sense." John realized he had been awake for at least five minutes without the killer migraine returning. He got an elbow under his body and managed to shove himself into a sitting position. Dizziness hit and he winced, taking a deep breath to get through the head rush. When the world came back into focus, he saw the other men sitting around the nearby firepit were staring at him again. _Right, I look different, let's all get over it now._ All the Tasiben he could see seemed to be dark-skinned, which meant their population must be fairly isolated; most of the other cultures they had encountered had been like the Athosians, with a broad range of racial types from all their gate travel.

On the lower terraces, there were more men sitting at the firepits, making breakfast. John thought it might be breakfast. That looked like morning daylight coming through cracks in the cave wall towards the far end. There were a lot of passages leading off from the levels below; the place looked a lot bigger than he had thought last night. John shifted around to check his wounds. The bandages wrapped around his feet looked fresh; they must have been changed this morning, though he didn't remember that at all. He lifted the edges but there wasn't the kind of swelling or redness you would expect from an infection. He looked at Vanrin, who was watching him with a lifted brow. "I can walk now. I want to see the others."

Vanrin snorted. "You are going to be very stubborn, aren't you."

John had to admit, "Well, yeah."

  
***

  
Vanrin found him a crutch. It was just a stick with a fork at the top, but it allowed John to hobble around, and it was heavy enough to be a weapon if he needed it.

He led John down through the cave, down the rough paths that led from terrace to terrace. The old doctor appeared to follow them part of the way, complaining loudly in the Tasiben language. John didn't need a translation to know that the old guy had evidently not signed off on the walking thing and was protesting it with a very Carson Beckett-like "you're going to fall and die and see if I care" speech. Vanrin made placating responses, until the old guy finally made a disgusted noise and went on ahead.

John almost wished he had stayed; it had been distracting him from the fact that the others they passed kept staring at him, and he didn't think it was because he was the only one hobbling around on a crutch.

They were nearly down to the last terrace, on a narrow portion of the path, when they met two young men coming the other way. John leaned into the wall to let them pass, glad for the rest. Concentrating on the path, the one in front didn't glance up until the last moment. He did a double-take as he saw John and his eyes widened.

It went on long enough for John to stare back, eyes narrowing, though he couldn't tell if this was hostility or not.

Vanrin made a soft comment, and the men started and hurriedly moved on.

"They do not mean rudeness," Vanrin explained with a slight shrug. "They stare because they are not used to seeing someone wear so many clothes."

"Oh." It made sense, he supposed. John could ignore the complete or partial nudity; it wasn't any worse than a clothing optional beach. "I lost the rest of my uniform."

Vanrin lifted a brow. "There is more?"

"Sure." John found himself saying defensively, "We need pockets. We have to carry a lot of stuff."

"To us, it is...intriguing," Vanrin said. "You already appear very...exotic. It concentrates the attention."

John stopped and stared at him, finally getting what he was saying. _So that's why they keep looking at my ankles._ "Oh."

The Nevians were in another cave, which was smaller and warmer and attached to main one by a narrow passage. Silve, Alvan, and five other Nevian women and teenage girls were there, worried and very glad to see a familiar face. The old doctor was there too now, and seemed to be taking care of them as well. The boy and the three adult women had had their feet slashed up, but they hadn't had the bad reaction to the Isveni drugs, so they had been awake and coherent much longer than John.

Silve asked the same question that Vanrin had: "Will your people come after us? I know my people will try," she admitted, "But we don't have any real soldiers, not anymore."

"They'll come," John told her, thinking _if they have any idea where we are._ That was the part that worried him.

After leaving the Nevians, they went back to the upper caves along a different route, a passage that curved up parallel to the main chamber. It was longer but the floor was smoother, and John suspected that Vanrin had noticed the fact that his hobbling had slowed down a lot. To distract himself from how much pain he was in, John asked, "Do you know why the Isveni came to your planet?"

"I think they believe this world was no longer inhabited. We have not used the Ring for trading in a long time. That is why few of us know the trade language." John nearly wobbled over and Vanrin caught his arm to steady him. His hand was warm; John could feel the heat through his shirtsleeve. It gave him a flashback to last night, which he was trying not to think about. "We understand that all tribes are different, and that differences should be no barrier to talk and trade, but we encountered too many who did not share this belief. We decided it was not worth it."

"We have the same problem," John admitted. They had run into dozens of cultures that made their trading partners either go through ridiculous hoops to seal agreements or who were so terrified of new contacts they fled or attacked at first sight. "We're peaceful explorers." For some reason, under Vanrin's faintly ironic gaze, John felt even more stupid saying that than he usually did.

With a lifted brow, Vanrin asked, "What are you exploring for?"

John rubbed his eyes; moving his head too much still gave him flashes of pain. He hesitated, and cautiously added, "We're looking for ways to fight the Wraith, for technology left behind by the Ancients." He realized he was bracing himself. Maybe he shouldn't have brought this up; many of their first contacts had gone to hell at right about this point.

But Vanrin just nodded. "Once there was a place of the Ancestors here, a place of great learning."

John stared at him, startled. "Is any of it still here?"

Vanrin shook his head. "The Wraith destroyed it when they destroyed our city. There is only a.... I do not know the word in this language. Not a canyon." He made a gesture, cupping his hands.

_There went that,_ John thought wearily. It was the story of life in Pegasus. "A crater."

"Yes. Look out, there is loose stone here."

John slipped anyway, Vanrin caught him then slipped too, catching them both by bracing his forearm against the wall. John looked up, startled to find Vanrin so close that they were breathing each other's breath. The hand supporting him had somehow slipped down to cup his hip. The moment stretched long enough for John to think, _there's pros and cons here._ This was an alien world, an alien culture, and Vanrin might have been upfront with him so far, but John wouldn't know for sure if he was trustworthy until he took them to the gate and let them go. But Vanrin had been really nice to him, and John was a complete sucker for that. And maybe it was too late for pros and cons, because John knew he wasn't exactly tensing against him and strongly suspected he was doing that thing that caused Rodney to make scathing comments implying that he was the biggest prick-tease in the Pegasus Galaxy, which was so unfair because it wasn't like he had any control over it.

Then somebody called out from down the passage. Vanrin cursed in Tasiben and pushed away, and John dropped his eyes to the ground, brow furrowed, and tried to stop doing whatever it was he was doing that caused this kind of thing. There wasn't a lot of time for either of them to be embarrassed about almost being caught in a clinch with a hot alien guy, since the person who had hailed Vanrin reached them a moment later.

John recognized him as one of the men who lived in Vanrin's section of the cave. He spoke worriedly and rapidly, gesturing back down the passage.

"That is...unexpected," Vanrin said finally, frowning. "He says the Isveni have come."

  
***

  
There was a watch post, a long narrow opening high up in the cliff overlooking the approach to the caves. Settling into it at Vanrin's side, John got his first good view of this planet.

The sky was still an overcast brown pall because of all the windblown dust in the air. Under it the tawny sand stretched as far as he could see, broken by tall fantastically-shaped wind-carved islands of reddish-brown rock and boulders. The wind was still piercingly cold, though it wasn't stirring up another sandstorm yet.

The Isveni were camped at the farthest point in the field of boulders that led up to the ridges at the foot of this outcrop. The boulders gave them some concealment, but John counted at least eight of them too dumb to keep their heads down; if he had had a rifle, he could have picked them off from here. It looked like they had a couple of tents set up down there, and three vehicles that looked like dune buggies by way of _Beyond Thunderdome._

Vanrin and a couple of other Tasiben were looking at the camp through small wooden telescopes. "They are not many, but their weapons give them an advantage in the open," Vanrin commented wryly. "That is why we only attack during the storms."

"Have they ever come out here before?" John asked. He couldn't quite figure what the Isveni thought they were doing here. Attacking the Tasiben stronghold would be suicidal, even though the Tasiben, unfortunately, didn't have firearms, except for a few captured Isveni air pistols. But coming in here would mean weaving in through twisty rock passages, under the full view of this and other watch posts, exposed to the spears and crossbows of the Tasiben.

"No, they have never been so foolish," Vanrin said, but he sounded worried.

Then John caught a glimpse of a familiar dark shape hanging around one Isveni neck. _Oh, don't tell me...._ "Hey, hey, could I use that thing for a second?"

Vanrin handed over the telescope, which wasn't bad for something using hand ground lenses. There was no good way to focus, but John could now see what that Isveni was carrying.

"Oh, crap." John handed the telescope back and wearily rubbed his forehead, feeling the tight pain of his headache trying to return. "They have my P-90."

Vanrin looked at him, his brows drawing together. "And what is that?"

"It's a gun. A better gun than the ones they have." He hesitated, but if the Isveni were going to try to come in here with it, the Tasiben had to know what it could do. "It can shoot about 900 rounds per minute."

"Nine hundred?" Vanrin stared at him incredulously. "This is for killing Wraith!"

"Well, you can kill just about anything with it," John admitted. "One of them probably has my 9mm, too. It's a small handgun, much better than their air pistols. And there's other things I had that I really hope they haven't figured out yet."

Vanrin passed this information along to the other Tasiben, who made shocked exclamations and studied the Isveni with renewed worry. "Nine hundred." Vanrin shook his head, still floored. He asked John helplessly, "What were you doing?"

John said defensively, "We get attacked a lot. By Wraith, by people like that--"

Vanrin snorted dubiously. "The life of peaceful explorers must be very difficult."

"Hey, you guys don't even use the gate anymore! There's a lot of crazy people out there."

"Apparently," Vanrin agreed readily.

  
***

  
The Isveni didn't make any other move, and there wasn't much else to do but wait.

One of the younger men brought food for everyone in the watch post, which was bowls of something that looked and tasted like crunchy rice, though John was pretty sure it didn't come from a plant. He managed to eat some of it, didn't ask what it was, and was grateful that no one tried to tell him.

It was cold up in the watchpost, the dusty wind sending eddies through the chamber, and John was still having light-headed moments from all the various drugs in his system. After Vanrin caught him trying to prop himself up against the rock, he urged him to go back to the main cave area, saying, "I promise to come and tell you if the Isveni do something amusingly stupid."

Vanrin sent an older man named Banat to escort John back to his area of the main cave. On the way back, people didn't stare nearly as much, which was kind of a relief. One young man did a classic doubletake and dropped an armload of firewood, then retreated in evident embarrassment. Banat, who didn't speak anything but Tasiben, just shook his head and rolled his eyes in eloquent comment.

John was starting to wonder if he wasn't so much being guarded as chaperoned. And he could see why the Tasiben had had trouble contacting other cultures; he didn't think openly bisexual nudity would go over well with people like the Genii and some of the other groups they had run into.

From what he could tell, Tasiben seemed to do a good job of avoiding the Wraith, mainly by managing to survive in a place that looked like a wasteland and by living in small nomadic groups. It was hard to tell how they were organized, but Vanrin was the leader of the male tribe, with a subcommittee that he was mostly related to. He seemed to make decisions by coming to a consensus with whoever happened to be standing around at the moment. Whatever it was, it seemed to work for them. And these caves were more complicated than they looked, with big stone pipes diverting an artesian springs through a series of smaller caves where it filled pools, provided drinking water, washed away waste. He had realized earlier the air throughout the small passages stayed fresh, even with all the fires and oil lamps, and knew they must have some kind of ventilation system rigged as well. The Tasiben must be like the Athosians, keeping their technology primitive by choice though they were capable of more.

If the Tasiben had been armed as well as the Isveni, John wouldn't have worried. As it was they had almost managed to drive the Isveni off with just rocks and sticks. But now, with the Isveni having his weapons.... He didn't know what was going to happen.

The terrace Vanrin lived on was unoccupied for the day. Banat settled into a spot on the shelf just below, busied himself making something involving braided leather, and glared menacingly at anyone who wandered too close.

John collapsed on the fur pallet he had slept in last night, just meaning to rest his feet, which were making his whole body ache. He didn't realize he had actually drifted off until the old doctor woke him, grumbling as he came up the path to the terrace. John sat up and rubbed his face, feeling bleary and half-conscious. From the light it was late afternoon, now. He hadn't fallen asleep so much as passed out, and in a weird position too, giving him a crick in the neck. _Great. Not exactly at the top of your form here, John._

The doctor stopped to check John's injuries and changed the bandages again, bitching the entire time. Apparently the Nevian women were being much more considerate patients. He finished off by shaking the bloody bandages at John accusingly. "Well, what would you like me to do?" John said pointedly, and the old man just glared at him.

Vanrin returned as the doctor left, telling John, "So far, the Isveni simply wait. I suspect they think they are making us nervous."

John looked up at him, running a hand through his hair. He admitted, "I was hoping they'd start playing with the P-90 and kill each other."

"Yes, the lookouts wished to see that too, and are disappointed." Vanrin sat down, looking back down the length of the cave with a faint frown. "The Isveni will want more of those weapons. I begin to wonder if that is why they are here, to try to get you back, so they can ransom you."

Gev and his dead buddy hadn't sounded interested in ransom, but maybe the other Isveni thought differently, now that they had had a chance to examine the P-90. "My leader won't trade weapons." Elizabeth hadn't been keen on the idea of trading C-4 to the Genii, even before that had bitten them in the ass. "And she's not going to bargain with slavers, not for anything. If she knows they're trading in women and kids.... It's going to make her really pissed off." That was putting it mildly. If there was anything that could make Elizabeth go crazy, that was it. He just wished he was there to help.

"What will she do?" Vanrin asked, watching him thoughtfully.

John took a deep breath. Being out of contact with Atlantis felt like having something amputated. "The Isveni won't know our gate address, but they could send a message through the Nevians. If I was there, I'd arrange an exchange and then take them at the rendezvous point. That's what my men would be arguing for too."

Vanrin nodded. "It is what we would do also, in that situation. The Isveni have always seemed to me to be overconfident, from years of preying on those who cannot fight back. Our weapons are much inferior to theirs, yet three times in the past season we have taken their captives. Then we waited until they left on another raid, then destroyed the Isveni camp and used the Ring to return the people to their own worlds. Each time, we thought the Isveni would realize we would not permit their activities, and they would surely leave and not return. But each time we find they have come back. So we decided we must drive them away for good." He smiled, giving John a slight shrug. "Possibly I should have waited for the other tribe to arrive before attacking this time, but our scouts reported that there were new captives, and the storm was rising, so I took the opportunity."

"Kind of glad you did." The wind was sending cold gusts through the cracks in the walls, and John rubbed his arms, feeling the chill seep right through his clothes. Most of the fires were banked for the day, though this part of the cave was still a lot warmer than the open watch post.

Vanrin reached over and wrapped his hand around John's ankle, his thumb moving over the soft skin just below the bone. "You're cold."

_Not anymore,_ John thought, feeling the warm touch in areas much further up. "Um, yeah," he managed.

Vanrin let go, clearing his throat. "Back when we tried to trade with other worlds, we saw ruins of the Ancestors' cities. You find uses for these things?"

"Well, sometimes," John admitted. "Mostly not."

"And this does not attract the Wraith?"

John snorted ruefully. "It attracts them like crazy."

Vanrin was watching him thoughtfully. "How many Wraith have you killed?"

"I don't know." John shrugged. "Even with our rate of fire, the bastards regenerate so fast. We blew one to pieces last week by putting some C-4 on a--"

Then a big hand cupped his face with firm but gentle pressure. Vanrin moved his thumb over John's cheekbone, then his lower lip; the guy had nice hands, strong and warm, the palm hard with callous. John swallowed, his throat dry from something besides the sand. He was back at the pros and cons again. Then Vanrin pulled him in and nuzzled his mouth.

John hesitated, then Vanrin's tongue teased John's lower lip. John forgot pros and cons and just leaned into the kiss, letting him in.

After a moment, Vanrin sat back. Sounding a little startled, he said, "I did not plan to do that."

John took a sharp breath. "Technically, I'm not supposed to do that."

Vanrin lifted his brows, puzzled. "With people from other tribes?"

"People we meet on other planets, yeah. The last time, everybody got mad--" John rubbed his eyes. "It's a long story."

"You have very jealous lovers?" Vanrin guessed, obviously having trouble following this.

"No, it was just the rest of my team."

"But your leader, she does not require you to save yourself for her?"

"What? Oh, no, no. No." John knew he was crap at explaining things like this. In another minute he was going to have a flashback to trying to explain the Easter Bunny to Teyla. "But I'm in the military, and there are rules."

"Your warrior caste requires you to remain celibate?" Vanrin tried again.

"No, no. There are rules that are...too stupid to explain. But it's not just me. In our group, there's the chain of command, and employee-supervisor relationships, and it's very complicated, but we're not supposed to have a relationship with anyone that we give orders to or work with. Not that it doesn't happen. It actually happens a lot. But I'm in a position where I'm responsible for everyone's safety...." John gave up. "It's very complicated."

Vanrin nodded slowly. "So there are complicated rules for determining who you may have sex with among your own people, and they become angry if you find lovers among any other tribe."

"No...." John thought it over. "Actually, yes. That's it exactly."

Vanrin was leaning toward him again. "This is hardly fair."

"It's really not," John found himself agreeing.

From the terrace below, someone cleared his throat loudly. Vanrin sat back, muttering darkly in Tasiben. John just buried his face in his hands, not certain whether he was relieved or pissed off.

The throat-clearer was one of the younger men from the watch post. Vanrin spoke to him for a moment, frowning, and translated, "The Isveni have sent a message. And I think we are in trouble."

  
***

  
They had the meeting on Vanrin's terrace, with several of the elders and a couple of dusty young men who must have been scouting outside, all talking earnestly. John waited impatiently until Vanrin translated, "The Isveni say they have captured one of our people. We think it must be Rani. She is a scout who travels our migration paths to check that the water holes are adequate. If she was in the deep waste when our messengers reached the other tribe, then she would have no idea that we were fighting the Isveni again, and would not have been wary."

"And what do they want for her?" John asked, though he thought he already had a pretty good idea.

"They threaten to kill her unless we return their prisoners." Vanrin shook his head. "Of course, this we cannot consider. We are going to attack their camp instead. If we can slip out through the other entrances to the caves, we may be able to circle them and approach without them noticing us."

And it would probably have worked, if the Isveni had only had their air pistols, which had a limited range, fired slowly, and tended to jam. With the P-90 and the 9mm, the Tasiben were going to take a lot of casualties. John said, "Look, just offer them me. Tell them my people will pay a big ransom for me, something. As much as all the Nevians are worth." Vanrin just looked at him, lifting a brow. "What?"

Vanrin said firmly, "We will give them no one. It is completely against our principles to even discuss such a thing."

_Openly bisexual nudists with high moral principles,_ John thought. _Yeah, they would never get along with the Genii._ But he had a plan now. Sort of a plan. He asked, "Can you pretend to discuss it?"

  
***

  
"Here's the thing," Ford said, "We don't really want to hurt anybody. But we will."

The village headman smiled nervously. "We're simple farmers."

Rodney snarled. He had the "simple" part right, anyway. "Oh really, we'll just be going then!" He flung his arms in the air, shouting, "Oh, wait, I guess we won't, because not everyone is as stupid as you!"

The headman cringed. Ford and Bates ignored Rodney's outburst, but Teyla pinched his arm really hard.

At least Charin's gate address had led them to an inhabited planet. The gate was on a raised stone platform facing the wide curve of a lake, with the village just above the shore. The houses were round hut-like tents, not unlike the ones the Athosians used, except smaller. That was where the resemblance to the Athosian encampment ended.

The sky was still gray from a recent rain and the village was even more muddy and dank and stinking than it probably was normally. These people evidently believed that throwing their garbage right outside their doors was a viable agrarian lifestyle. The land around the lake -- sparse forest and open meadows -- looked fertile enough, but there was no evidence of farming, fishing, or any other legitimate occupation. The people were dirty, dressed in shabby rags, unhealthy, and, Rodney suspected, badly inbred. He wasn't the only one who thought so. "It's the planet of the fucking hillbillies," he had heard Benson mutter.

Unfortunately, there was no evidence of Sheppard or any of the Nevians, either.

The Marines had searched the village, Rodney guiding them with a life signs detector, and they now had all the filthy wide-eyed inhabitants gathered in the muddy open space in the center. Stackhouse's jumper, still cloaked and flying a search pattern, had reported no human life signs in any of the outlying areas.

While Rodney clutched his injured arm and gazed accusingly at Teyla, Bates said, "You're simple farmers who use the same weapons as a group of raiders we're looking for. They showed up on a planet that had just been hit by a culling, pretending to be traders. Then they started shooting. Sound familiar to anybody?"

Bates was good at steely-eyed intimidation and Ford was perfect as the guy who might be persuaded to be reasonable if only people cooperated. Teyla, Benson, Ramirez, and the other Marines stood around and looked grim, like they would much rather be shooting. Rodney felt he had been typecast as the hysterical shouting guy, but he couldn't seem to break out of the role.

The pale sickly woman who seemed to be the headman's wife said, "We stole, we never--"

The headman turned to her, lifting a hand to hit her. "Shut up!"

Ramirez caught his arm before he could connect, effortlessly slinging the big man down on the muddy ground. The other villagers didn't object. In fact, some of them looked pleased. Ford told the headman evenly, "You shut up and let her talk."

She said nervously, "We never took people. We took food, trade goods, whatever we could get. Then Nethen took us to a planet, he said they were vulnerable, it would be easy, and he was wrong. They had weapons, they killed half of us. We told Nethen, no more. But he wouldn't listen. He took his clan and two others, and left. We haven't seen them since."

Ford didn't lose his poker face. Bates gave her the look that made the guilty confess and the innocent slink into hiding, saying flatly, "You haven't seen them since."

She wiped her nose and nodded earnestly, apparently under the impression that he believed her. "That's the truth."

"Then how do you know they're taking people?" Rodney shouted. "He didn't say anything about taking prisoners!"

The woman stared, her eyes going wide.

"Why do they take people?" Teyla asked suddenly, ignoring the annoyed look Bates flicked at her. "What do they do with them?"

The woman shifted uneasily. From the ground, the headman said, "Not that I know personally, mind, but they could sell them for slaves. Some planets have a big market, especially for kids. You know, young enough to be...."

He trailed off, as Teyla's growing expression of rage and the icy silence emanating from the Marines finally seemed to penetrate. Rodney shook his head, looking away in disgust. They had suspected that might be it, it was one of the logical explanations for what had happened. But hearing it aloud was different.

While Teyla thoughtfully fingered the trigger of her P-90, the woman said nervously, "We don't know where they are. We haven't see them for the past year."

Ford folded his arms over his weapon and said, "You're trying to tell us that these people are family to you, and none of them ever came back to visit? 'Cause I'm not going to buy that."

Bates added darkly, "It's you or them."

She hesitated, trembling. "I'll give you the address."

  
***

  
Walking back toward the jumpers, the Marines covering them in case the villagers suddenly grew some initiative, Rodney said in exasperation, "She couldn't possibly be telling the truth! She gave in too easily--"

Ford gave him a withering look. "That's why Stackhouse's team is staying here in the cloaked jumper, right in front of their gate, so they have a good view when she goes to warn them."

Rodney stared. "That was the plan all along?"

"It was one of the plans, the easiest one," Ford admitted.

The one that didn't involve torture or shooting unarmed people, Rodney realized. The one Ford hadn't wanted to get his own hopes up by discussing. All Rodney's frustration and panic drained out, and all he said was, "Oh. That's-- That's a good plan."

"You think they will fall for it?" Teyla asked, carefully not looking back.

"These people probably have crazy uncles playing banjos and two-headed babies," Rodney told her with a grimace. "It's not exactly going to take feats of Machiavellian deception to outwit them."

Ford said wryly, "Yeah, I'm kind of counting on that."

Rodney just hoped the damn woman didn't wait around before she left. He had heard that if you didn't find a missing person within the first forty-eight hours, the chances of finding him alive dropped dramatically. He hoped like hell that wasn't true in Pegasus, because they were running out of time.

***

They knew the Isveni would have to bring Rani out to the meeting point, even if they intended to keep her and take John and Vanrin too, which everyone agreed was most likely. The Isveni had been adamant about holding the meeting while it was still daylight, when they had the advantage. The idea was for Vanrin to stall as long as possible, pretending to let the Isveni bargain for the Nevians, until the gray twilight faded into darkness. Then the others, who would have been quietly creeping through the rocks all this time, would jump the Isveni. Everyone also agreed it was a terrible plan, but it was the best they had.

One small advantage was that Vanrin had managed to get the Isveni to agree to a meeting point where there was a sheltered spot in the rocks that provided a view from concealment. Getting there involved edging through a dim twisty passage that was little more than a crack, which led into an extremely narrow cubby where you could look out through something the size of a medieval arrow slit. From there, a larger passage led out into the field of boulders.

After a tense wait, the scouts indicated that Vanrin wanted John to come through, and John edged his way along the crack, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the sharp rocks he kept stepping on. The marginally wider part of the crack was in near darkness and John fell when he reached it, but was caught by the three men already huddled there. Because they were Tasiben, nobody copped a feel, and John got helped up to the rock where Vanrin was sitting. Vanrin pulled him up, nearly into his lap, so they could both look out the arrow slit.

John craned his neck to see, trying to think tactically about the situation they were about to walk into and not the muscular thigh pressing against his ass.

From here he could see the open area in the boulders. There were two Isveni, and they had brought an awkwardly large battery lamp, apparently as a precaution in case they were still out here when night fell. "We cannot convince them to come any closer, and our weapons will not reach them at this range," Vanrin said in John's ear.

Rani, the Tasiben hostage, was sitting on the ground near them, her hands chained in front of her. Her hair was in thick dark braids nearly to her waist, framing a beautiful face with full lips and high cheekbones. Her only clothing was a leather kilt and a heavy ring of bead necklaces that left her perfect breasts mostly bare. She was ignoring the two Isveni with angry contempt. John made himself stop looking at her. It was bad enough with Vanrin as a distraction; he really didn't need to be trying to do this with an erection.

"The older man is Nethen, their leader," Vanrin added. "It surprises me that he came himself. At our previous encounters, I have thought to end this situation by killing him in battle, but he avoids it neatly every time."

Nethen was big like most of the Isveni, with graying blond hair and a grim expression. "He's probably feeling confident because he's got my pistol," John whispered back. The two men didn't have the P-90 -- the Tasiben's conditions for the meeting had stipulated that the Isveni not wear their long dart-rifle-concealing coats. John had figured the Isveni would agree, knowing they could conceal the small and deadly 9mm in a pocket.

"And on that cheerful thought--" Vanrin put his hands on John's waist and lifted him down. John's shirt had ridden up a little and there was a finger's width worth of electric skin to skin contact. John leaned on the rock to steady himself, and thought _oh, what the hell._ After John killed these Isveni bastards, Vanrin was going to get lucky.

Vanrin slipped past him, leading the way out through the wider passage.

The cold wind hit as they left the shelter of the passage and moved out into the boulders, and John didn't have to exaggerate his painful limp. Vanrin took his arm to steady him, saying softly, "In a moment.... They have seen us."

John kept his head down and weaved, trying to look sick and out of it, as they entered the cleared area. The Isveni watched them alertly, and the one Vanrin had pointed out as Nethen actually pasted a fake smile on his face. _Yeah, he's got my gun, all right._ Rani was frowning, her brow furrowed, obviously wondering what the hell Vanrin thought he was doing.

"So that's him," Nethen said, eyeing John as they drew near. "The others said they took him for his looks. Did you wear him out passing him around?"

"Your vulgarities are pointless," Vanrin said easily, stopping about five paces away from the Isveni. "He is ill, your ignorant people gave him too many drugs."

Vanrin let go of his arm and John staggered a couple of steps sideways, then dropped to his knees, keeping up the impression of someone barely conscious.

Nethen watched him with greedy eyes. "Where are the others, the women?"

"In a moment," Vanrin said, calm as a rock. "First I want an assurance that you intend them no harm."

The other Isveni man managed to keep a straight face, but it wasn't easy. Nethen lied like an expert, saying seriously, "We're going to ransom them."

Vanrin watched him for a moment, one brow lifted dubiously. "All of them?"

Nethen shrugged and smiled, showing bad teeth. "Of course."

"He is not from the same world where you took the others," Vanrin pointed out.

Nethen shrugged. "We sent a message to his people. They sent someone who offered us ransom for him."

"What was the name of the person who came, and what did he offer you?"

Nethen swore in annoyance. "He didn't give a name. He said he was their leader. He offered us part of their harvest."

Vanrin kept his voice bland. "I see."

Nethen may have sensed that Vanrin found him less than convincing. He said, "Just to show how sincere I am, I'll give you the key to the girl's chains."

Rani said something urgent in the Tasiben language, and Vanrin shook his head at her.

Then Nethen reached into a pocket and was suddenly pointing John's 9mm at Vanrin.

Rani was giving Vanrin a furious "I told you so" look.

Nethen said, "You know what this is."

Vanrin tilted his head. "I can guess." They had expected this, but John had been hoping they could stall a little longer before the guns came out. It wasn't quite dark enough for the other Tasiben to approach.

The other Isveni reached down to the battery lamp and pulled an air pistol out from behind it, covering them with a confident grin. John tried not to roll his eyes; the battery lamp trick had been kind of obvious. But Nethen's expression was angry, which he hadn't been expecting. His voice no longer even, Nethen said, "Tell me who killed Gev."

_Oh, fuck,_ John thought, sliding a look at Vanrin. They had figured the Isveni would try to hold Vanrin hostage and demand the Nevians. They hadn't figured on this. After a heartbeat, Vanrin managed to say innocently, "Who?

"Was it you?" Nethen grated out the words.

"It wasn't him," John said, slurring the words a little, squinting up at the Isveni as if it was hard to see. Nethen's gaze snapped to him, feverish and eager. "Why do you want to know?"

"Which one of them was it?" Nethen snarled. "Describe him, if you don't know the name." John just lifted his brows. Nethen snarled, "Gev was my son."

_And why am I not surprised._ John said, "I can see the family resemblance."

Nethen took two steps toward him, not quite close enough. He had the sense to motion Vanrin away, and Vanrin took two deliberate steps to the side, bringing him closer to the other Isveni, who was still covering him. Rani had tensed, shifting so her feet were under her, ready to move. Nethen said, "You know what happened, offworlder. The others said he and Deln took you into the hut before the attack--"

John laughed blearily. "Why should I tell you? You're not trading me back to my people."

"Sure I am." Nethen pasted the fake smile back on his face, and John wondered if the guy actually got away with this kind of thing, bargaining with desperate people.

John said, "You're lying. No one came here from my world. My leader's a woman, and we don't have a harvest to trade."

Nethen dropped the creepy fake smile, which was a relief. "I am lying. I want more of these weapons, and I figure I'll get the gate address out of you, and either bargain for them or take them."

John smirked. "Notice how I don't look worried about that."

"I want to know who killed Gev!" Nethen lunged forward suddenly and grabbed John by the front of his shirt, jerking him forward, shoving the gun under his chin.

John said, "I did," and grabbed the barrel, snapping it sideways just as Nethen fired in reflex.

The report right next to John's ear sent a stab of pain through his head, and made John slam the heel of his hand into Nethen's nose that much harder. Nethen jolted back, losing his grip on the gun, eyes stunned, blood streaming from his nose. John didn't wait to see if the blow had driven the bone into the man's brain or not. He turned the pistol and fired nearly pointblank into Nethen's chest.

Vanrin had the other Isveni on the ground, and Rani had the air pistol, gripping it awkwardly in her bound hands; the man must have tried to turn his weapon on John, leaving the Tasiben free to jump him. John could tell Vanrin was shouting but his voice sounded far away; the gunshot next to his head had temporarily deafened him. He shoved to his feet, just as more Isveni charged up the path. He fired, dropping the first four, and the others scattered back for cover. Then Vanrin grabbed his arm, dragging him back, and they were running.

  
***

  
"This is a foul place," Teyla said, her lip curled in disgust as she looked around the dusty camp.

Rodney nodded, his face set in a grimace as he checked the lifesigns detector. The row of metal shacks and temporary buildings had looked promising as a base for a raider group. But once they found the pens and the chains, they knew they had the right place.

After what felt like days but was actually only several hours, Stackhouse's team had finally dialed in to Atlantis to report. On the planet that the Marines were now calling "Deliverance," their jumper had finally observed the village headman's wife go through the gate. The cloaked jumper had followed her through, and found a small encampment on a desert planet that in Stackhouse's words "looks like the jackpot."

The only problem was, the camp was empty.

Stackhouse had landed and taken the headman's wife prisoner, but she was still insisting she had no idea where the inhabitants had gone. Rodney, Teyla, Ford, and Markham had arrived with Bates' team to search the place.

Rodney shook his head, his mouth twisted as the detector continued to insist that there was no one in the area but them. He asked wearily, "You're sure this place was inhabited recently?"

"Yes," Teyla said without hesitation. "I would say that it has only been empty a matter of hours."

The radio crackled and Ford's voice said, "Teyla, McKay. We found something."

Teyla was already running before she clicked an acknowledgement, and Rodney bolted after her, his shoes slipping on the loose sand.

Around the next clump of boulders was another couple of rusty metal shacks. Stackhouse was standing in the doorway of the first, holding a gray BDU jacket. Ford and Bates were with him. As they arrived, Stackhouse said, "It's the Major's. His tac vest is here, too. Boots, gun belt." He looked up, wincing. "At least there's no blood."

Rodney stared, grimacing, then exchanged a worried look with Teyla. She asked, "There is no sign of his weapons?"

Stackhouse shook his head, glancing back into the shack. "No. And the ammo's gone, but the C4 is still here. They must not have known what it was."

"Yeah. They knew what the ammo was for, all right," Ford said. He let his breath out, chewing his lip in thought as he looked out over the camp. "That's not good."

"This has got to be the right place," Bates said, surveying the camp again with a frustrated glare. "There are bunks and supplies for at least thirty to forty people here, not counting whoever they were keeping in those pens. This is exactly the kind of base camp you'd expect for an operation like this."

Stackhouse added, "We also found some kind of desert vehicle and space for two others, so they had transportation."

"You think they took all their prisoners away through the gate?" Ford said, brow furrowed as he thought it over. "They didn't have any warning. They weren't here when the woman arrived, and nobody dialed out after that."

Rodney gestured in frustration, turning to Stackhouse. "Wait, you said these were desert vehicles?"

"That's right," Stackhouse told him. "Big tires, kind of like a giant dune buggy. Two of them would hold a lot of people or equipment."

Frowning in speculation, Teyla said, "You are thinking that those vehicles were constructed for this planet, and not meant to be taken through the gate. So they are still here somewhere."

Rodney flung his arms in the air. "It's worth a shot. We can't play gate tag with these people anymore, at least until we get more information. If those vehicles took them out of the immediate range of our sensor sweeps, if they went to another camp--"

Ford nodded sharply. "Yeah, we can't eliminate that possibility. We need to widen the jumper search pattern. Dr. McKay, can you--"

Rodney waved, already starting away. "Figure out the vehicles' possible range from the one they left behind, yes, yes, I'm on it."

  
***

  
They made it back to the cave entrance, chased by the Isveni the whole way. No one got shot, though two Tasiben were hit by sleeping darts and had to be dragged by the others.

Once they were in the shelter of the cave, the entrance guarded by men with crossbows and a few of the captured air pistols, John limped to the nearest flat stretch of sandy dirt and eased down into a sitting position. His ears were still ringing from the shot and his feet hurt like hell. He picked at the filthy bloody bandages and winced. Maybe the old doctor had a point; at the rate he was going he was never going to heal.

Vanrin was sorting out the scouts and guards, and the old doctor arrived to check on the men who had been hit by the drugged darts. John looked up, startled, as Rani sat on her heels in front of him, but just managed to drag his eyes up past her chest to her face. Someone had already gotten the manacles off her wrists; Vanrin had told him the Tasiben had stolen keys on their first raid, and the Isveni had never thought to get new locks.

She smiled wryly and said something in Tasiben. John shook his head, smiling back. "I don't understand." He tapped his ear. "And I'm kind of deaf right now."

She smiled again, patted his cheek, and pushed to her feet.

As she left, John checked the 9mm's clip and grimaced. It only had two bullets left. But the other Isveni might not realize that, and the threat of it might be enough to keep them back.

The next time John looked up Vanrin was standing over him, saying, "It is too dark now for them to risk an attack. Hopefully our other tribe will be here by morning. I have already sent a messenger to tell them of the other weapon the Isveni have, to be cautious approaching their camp."

John nodded. He pointed to his ear. "I can barely hear you."

Vanrin knelt in front of him, saying slowly and clearly, "You are insane."

"Hey, that was the plan. You thought it was a good idea."

"I am insane, too."

John nodded. "That's why we're getting along so well."

Then Vanrin cupped a hand around the back of John's neck, pulled him in, and kissed him. The kiss was hard and warm and desperate, no coaxing this time, and John was suddenly reminded that Vanrin might be a leader and a fighter, but he wasn't used to this kind of violence, to weapons that could kill a dozen men in a minute.

Vanrin broke the kiss to say, "I know your people have rules, but this will be just between us."

John could barely walk, could barely hear; he figured he had better take this opportunity before anything else stopped working. "That's a--" Vanrin shushed him and John managed to finish at lower volume, "Good idea."

  
***

  
By the time they got back to the main cave John was starting to doubt. He felt like he had built up a lot of anticipation here and he didn't want to be a disappointment by passing out at some key moment from the drug reaction. While Vanrin chased a few stragglers off the terrace, John made the sure the pistol's safety was on and set it aside.

Then Vanrin came back and pushed him down on his back on the furs. John thought it would be fast post-battle sex, but Vanrin started exploring him with slow deliberation, tasting his skin, sliding a hand between his thighs, palming his ass, nuzzling his throat. When he slid John's shirt up and traced a line down his stomach with his lips and tongue, John thought, _No, I was right the first time, this is a fantastic idea._ He took a shuddering breath and moved Vanrin's hand from his hip to his groin.

When Vanrin got John's pants unbuttoned and found his boxers he snorted in amusement. "Hey," John objected, his breathing already rough, "I didn't laugh at you being naked."

John couldn't get close enough to all that warmth and hard muscle, trying to arch up and rub against him without putting pressure on his wounded feet. At one point Vanrin said, "I have a question."

"Huh?" John lifted his head. Vanrin indicated what he meant by a slow sweep of his thumb. John let his head fall back, drawing a sharp breath. "It's called circumcision, it's...kind of a thing where I come from."

"Your people seem to ask a lot of you."

"It's a rough life," John agreed.

Vanrin lifted his brows. "Am I going to find anything else different?"

"I don't know," John told him seriously. "You should look really hard."

Finally John hooked his knee over Vanrin's hip and convinced him he didn't have to be as gentle as he thought he did. When John's brain shorted out not long after that, he bit Vanrin in the shoulder and came shuddering against his stomach. He blinked sweat out of his eyes, lightheaded again as Vanrin rocked against him, thinking _yeah, fantastic idea. Best idea ever._ Vanrin came with a shout that made John grin. It wasn't like everybody in the cave didn't know what they were doing in here; might as well let them know it was a success.

Later, bonelessly relaxed and pleasantly achy in all the right places, John felt Vanrin lift the chain for his dogtags. He ran his thumb over the metal, asking, "This is significant?"

John said through a yawn, "It tells who I am, if my body can't be identified."

"Ah. We use skin markings." Vanrin, used to the threat of the Wraith, didn't need to ask anymore.

John slid into sleep after that, and didn't wake until Vanrin sat up on one elbow, speaking to someone down on the path. John rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up. The ringing in his ears was gone and his hearing seemed back to normal. He asked blearily, "They still out there?"

"Yes, but the scouts have seen something odd, to put it mildly."

"Hmm?" Vanrin was absently stroking John's stomach, his hand moving in circles; this was a great way to get status reports.

Vanrin shook his head slightly, his expression baffled. "He says there is a flying ship hovering over the Isveni camp, but it is not Wraith."

"A big square one, kind of a gunmetal gray?" John asked, suddenly awake. Vanrin stared at him. "Yeah, that's probably for me."

  
***

  
They got cleaned up and John got his clothes back on and tucked the 9mm into his pocket. Then they went out on the flat below the main cave entrance, sitting on the rocks to watch the show. They couldn't see the Isveni camp from here, but the jumper had directed its exterior lights down, and must be flooding the camp with light. "They fired on it with your weapon," Vanrin translated, as the men on watch filled him in.

John nodded. It sounded like something the Isveni would do. "Yeah, that was a big mistake."

"Will they shoot at them from the craft?" Vanrin asked curiously.

More Tasiben were assembling for the event, including Rani, who sat next to John and looped an arm around his neck in a friendly way. _There's a lot of things about this planet I'm going to miss,_ John thought wistfully. "No," he said, as in the distance the first few smoke grenades went off, "The men already on the ground and surrounding the camp will be shooting at them."

They waited until the gunfire stopped, which didn't take long, and the jumper still in the air was joined by a second. John asked Vanrin if they could light the torches around the cave entrance, and as the firelight illuminated the area, another jumper shimmered and appeared in the air above them. "Three jumpers," John said with a grin, "They must have missed me." He hopped off the rock, hobbled forward a couple of steps and waved, then gave the all clear signal.

The jumper drifted down toward the open flat below the entrance, stirring up dust as it touched down. The Tasiben were cautiously emerging from the rocks, watching the jumper in amazement. The ramp opened and it was Stackhouse who bounded out first, calling, "Major!"

John grinned, limping down to meet him. "Where the hell have you guys been?"

Audley and Smith had followed him out, and Stackhouse said, "We've been looking for you, sir!" He lowered his voice, "I take it these people are friendlies?"

"You take it right, sergeant." He turned to Vanrin, saying, "This is Vanrin, he's the leader of the Tasiben; they've been trying to kick the slavers off their planet. The Nevians are here, too."

"I will send for them," Vanrin said, with a faint smile, and turned to speak to one of the scouts.

Audley touched his headset, reporting, "The lieutenant's on his way, sir."

"Good," John said. His feet were already throbbing again. "I'm going to sit down now."

John sat down on the jumper's ramp, with Stackhouse standing over him, and watched the other Marines straining their eyes trying not to stare at Rani, who had come forward with the others to look curiously at the jumper.

Vanrin took this all in with a faint smile. He said, "I think the Isveni made a very grave mistake when they took you."

John smiled up at him. "You could say that."

"Sir, Bates is reporting that the slaver camp is now secure." Stackhouse looked from John to Vanrin, asking hopefully, "Will the local authorities be taking charge of the prisoners?"

John asked Vanrin, "You want the Isveni?"

Vanrin laughed. "Not particularly. We have been trying to be rid of them for so long, it seems a shame not to take advantage of the opportunity to make them someone else's problem."

Stackhouse hid a grin. John snorted. "Oh, thanks. I bet the Nevians would be interested. They must still have a prison or two somewhere."

Then Ford arrived through the rocks at a quick jog, followed by Benson and Ramirez. Stackhouse stepped back as Ford stopped beside John. Ford said fervently, "Major, am I glad to see you."

"Likewise." John smiled at him. "Is somebody reporting to Elizabeth?" Speaking of the Nevians, they must be nearly crazy with worry. Mariet was going to be incredibly relieved to get Silve and Alvan back.

"Yes, sir." Ford sounded relieved to have somebody to report to. "The team we left at the gate is dialing in to update them right now. Base will call in to the Nevians, let them know we'll be bringing their people back as soon as possible."

"Good, just keep doing what you're doing."

Vanrin told Ford, "He has been very ill. The drugs the Isveni use to control their captives affected him badly."

"Hey," John objected.

Ford nodded, his face serious. "I'll call the medical team."

"I can wait until--" John began, then suddenly Rodney was standing over him, waving his arms and demanding, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." John tried to stand, then decided against it. "Ow. Except for the feet."

Teyla stepped onto the ramp, sitting in front of John, gently pulling his head down to hers for a moment in the Athosian embrace. "We took the raider camp near the gate, and found your jacket and other things there," she explained, sounding relieved too. "We were very worried." She smiled up at Vanrin. "And we are very grateful to you and your people."

Vanrin gave her a gracious nod. "Your gratitude is appreciated, but to frustrate the Isveni's schemes is our way."

Still agitated, Rodney was asking, "But what happened? How did you get away? What--"

Fortunately, Ford interrupted, coming back to crouch next to John and say, "Sir, Sergeant Bates reports that there's a large concentration of lifesigns headed this way. It looks like they're riding some kind of large animals?"

John glanced up at Vanrin. "They're expected. That's the women's tribe."

"They are a little late, but the weather has been bad," Vanrin added.

"Oh." Ford blinked. "So...we should wait till they get here, so we can contact them? In case Dr. Weir--"

John nodded seriously. "Yeah, we can do that."

As Ford headed back to give the good news to the Marines, Vanrin commented wryly, "He is very young."

"I have scars older than him," John said, smiling up at him. Of course, Vanrin had seen them all.

Vanrin looked down at him and smiled warmly back.

Rodney looked from John to Vanrin and back. Then he clapped a hand over his eyes and said, "Oh, my God."

Teyla looked from Rodney to John to Vanrin and back, then blinked. "Oh."

"I will just be over here," Vanrin said, and exited quickly.

Rodney was glaring at John. John swore incredulously and said, "If you make one Kirk joke, I swear, I swear to God, I will kill you right on the floor of this jumper."

"We were worried sick! Do you have any concept-- We were going out of our minds!" Rodney hissed. "And believe me, I hate the fact that I sound like my mother!"

"Are you saying that I've just been here having a good time?" John gestured pointedly to his feet. "Would you like to see my bleeding open wounds here?"

"No, no, I was not saying that! Okay, I was saying that, but you--"

"Rodney, I have two bullets left."

"Dr. McKay," Teyla said, placating, "This is not the time or place."

Rodney gestured wildly. "There was almost a mutiny! Bates and Teyla were going to kill each other!"

"There was no such thing!" Teyla said, deeply offended.

Then Dr. Beckett stepped up onto the ramp, glancing back over his shoulder, commenting, "My goodness, that's a lovely young lady out there." He turned back to John, smiling with pleased relief. "Major, I'm very glad to see you! We've all been very worried."

Rodney pointed at John's feet. "He has bleeding open wounds!"

"Don't try to make up with me, Rodney," John snapped.

"Yes, I see everything is back to normal." Beckett set his case down on the ramp, popping it open and taking out one of the Ancient handheld medical scanners. "Now just let me take a look here."

John lay back on the floor of the jumper and slung an arm over his eyes as Beckett started to poke at the bandages. He fought the urge to yawn. It was all starting to catch up with him, his injuries, the drugs, the tension. The great sex.

"Very neat sutures, though it looks like you're ripped quite a few of them out. That's certainly typical." Beckett added thoughtfully, "No evidence of infection. I take it whoever did this used some kind of antibiotic?"

"Yeah," John told him, lifting his arm so he could see Beckett. "The doctor is the old guy with the bones in his hair. I had a bad reaction to the slavers' drugs and he gave me something to counteract that. Most of the Nevians are cut up like this."

"Ach, the bastards." Beckett shook his head grimly. He patted John's knee. "I'll have to do some blood work once we get you back, but I think all you need is some time on your back in the infirmary."

Rodney began, "I think he's already had enough time on his-- Ow! That's not what I meant! Teyla, you broke my rib!"

Beckett rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. "I'm going to take a look at the poor Nevian ladies and children. I'll need to speak to that local doctor, and get some samples of what he gave you."

As Beckett left, Rodney sat down heavily on the ramp, glaring in a distracted grumpy way at John. "All right, fine." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "That guy is kind of hot." John was trying to decide whether to forgive him or to make a crack about who had appointed Rodney keeper of the key to John's chastity belt, when Rodney added suspiciously, "And at least he wasn't lying about being an Ascended Ancient. Was he?"

John lifted his head, glaring. "Glass houses, Rodney."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I am familiar with that expression," Teyla commented calmly, obviously still smarting from the mutiny remark. "The Major means that at least his new friend did not plot to take from us a ZPM, vital to our survival."

Rodney snarled, "Oh, thank you, Teyla!"

John sighed, covering his eyes. It was good to be home.

  
***

  
The report filed on the Atlantis system said things like _friendly locals recovered personnel but were prevented from accessing the stargate by a hostile force_ and _formal trade alliance secured by Dr. Weir on return visit_ with the note added at the end _planet's weather conditions and terrain are inhospitable, but note that this is a designated "safe" address, if personnel need a quick fall back from an insecure position_.

The story the Tasiben told was much better, about the Isveni raiders who were finally defeated, who were foolish enough to steal a beautiful alien prince from a warrior race who now lived in the city of the Ancestors.

**end**

**Works inspired by this one:**

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